how they keep shining after
so violent a death—hydrogen
which is odorless, tasteless,
transparent but felt, fuel
for so many lives, now
spent.

One lovely luminary, still
bleeding her tawny light,
said to me, I will tell you
the secret of continuing
to live once atoms
have been squeezed
& crushed to their smallest,
smaller than they ever
thought they could be. 

Hold on to your core.

Sip slowly at what is left,
then gulp & gulp again
until a supernova erupts—
sharp lightning gallops
across skeins of neon
in scarlet/cadmium/sunflower/
peacock/cobalt/Byzantium
& the most violaceous
black hole to swallow
deniers of the buoyancy
of bodies in their own
self-determined orbits.  


Now I sit upon this rock
& drink the midnight
stars, imbibe their deaths—
eruption    rush     surge—
& savor their re-creations
in capitols of light.